


The country's most desired bachelor

by Pixel_Park



Category: Defense of the Ancients | Dota, Dota 2
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24772465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixel_Park/pseuds/Pixel_Park
Summary: Kaèl is the offspring of one of the richest aristocratic families in the country. Soon his graduation as archmage is scheduled, an event for which the arrogant Elf has prepared himself for five years and which should catapult him into the highest spheres of academic circles. Too bad that his comfortable life is in danger of being shattered right now: Kael's fiancée leaves him, his dysfunctional family urges him to have a descendant, and to top it all off, the antimage that has already killed countless magicians is threatening him. But Kael would not be the archmage-to-be if he gave in so easily. He accepts the challenge.
Relationships: Kael the Invoker/Magina the Anti-Mage
Comments: 16
Kudos: 1





	1. Eating snails

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YashaAndKaya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YashaAndKaya/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Von Magie und scharfen Klingen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24355726) by [Pixel_Park](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixel_Park/pseuds/Pixel_Park). 



> This is a translation of: "Der begehrteste Junggeselle des Landes" into English  
> If you speak german, I recommend to read the original instead, it is much better written. I am not a native speaker, so please be kind (nevertheless, corrections are always welcome) :-)

The arm was on him again. And the hand clenched around his ribs as if it didn't want to let go of him even in his dreams.   
Drunk asleep Kael pushed the arm away. He didn't understand her. She always wanted to sleep next to him, even though he had decorated such a lovely guest wing for her.   
In winter, the whole thing might have been bearable, but now, in the middle of summer, she pressed herself warm and sweaty against his back. And she smelled ... just like she always smelled after sex when her perfume wore off, and her pheromones determined the top note. It disgusted him.  
Kael raised his hand to move her away by telekinesis. He must have had dosed the spell wrong because she was catapulted over the edge of the bed and landed on the floor with a dull bang.   
"Oops," he said.  
Rubìnia cast a spell of light that hurt his eyes. "Kael! What the fuck was that?" She picked herself up and rubbed her shoulder. She threw a bitterly, angry look.  
"I could not sleep. You crushed me."  
" _Embrace_ , not crush, Kael! I just wanted to cuddle after sex!"  
 _Cuddling after sex, now she's getting mad,_ he thought.  
She crossed her arms in front of her chest. How often had he seen her standing like that, the last few years?   
She probably expected him to say something conciliatory or compliment her now. Still, he wasn't the type of guy who talked after others' mouths. And, by Roshan, what could she be annoying! Already at dinner, she had cackled five times, something that Kael couldn't stand. Yet he did not even flinch when he did so - that's called self-control!  
"I can't sleep like this," he explained to her patiently. "And I need my eight hours of sleep. Otherwise, I can't concentrate during the day. My exam is in four months, and I have a huge study load ahead of me."   
Rubìnia laughed bitterly. She stepped to the armchair where he had thrown one of her clothes after another just a few hours earlier. "I can't hear it anymore. You're always talking about that stupid exam. You're no fun to be around anymore. If we ever had any fun together. I don't remember it."  
He wanted to object that even today they have had a lot of fun together, even though Kael should have studied for his degree as an archmage. But that was probably not what she wanted to hear. As always, she was unfair and hasty in her judgments, but he had made an effort. He had tried _really_ hard.  
Softly sighing, he reached for the book on his bedside table. If he was already awake, then he could do something useful.  
"By all Roshans in the world, if you don't put down that book right now, I'll kill you," she hissed.  
"This is a brilliantly written work on transformation..."  
" _Will_ you talk with me about our problems now?" Something about her voice forced him to put it back quickly.  
"Fine," he said. "I am all ears, my dear."  
"My dear!" She snorted. "For years, you've treated me as if I were an inanimate object. You don't have to pretend that you care about me."   
"I'm not doing that," he said placatory. "Of course I don't care about you. But the feeling is mutual." Rubìnia had her little affairs and side-romances just as he did, he knew that. Altogether they harmonized quite well -- they left each other in peace, and the sex was better than with most other people. But unfortunately, it was the "Roshans-Egg Festival", the highest holiday in Fukuòka, and Rubìnia had to stay at his side for this. The people loved to cheer the 'happily engaged' couple.  
Seven. Days. Togetherness.  
"I want someone who at least pretends to love me."   
"Interesting," Kael said. "Is that fashion now?"  
"You don't understand me." She wrung her hands. "It's so hard to be with someone who has no empathy."  
"Once again, you exaggerate. You find everything hard. Even eating snails without sprinkling you with herb butter."  
"You think you're funny?" She slipped over her underdress and buttoned the pearl buttons. "Unbelievable. And with this elf, I have wasted so many years!"  
"Spending time with me is not wasted! I am eloquent and funny and a beacon of knowledge."  
Her face darkened. "A beacon of knowledge. You know what? I'm calling off our engagement!"  
He sat up. "You don't mean that. Our engagement is so advantageous!"  
"And if you were the son of the emperor of Finistère herself, no one could love you, Kael Sunstrider. You love yourself too much for that."   
Within seconds, she cast a magic spell to order the hair that was tangled up on all sides into a shiny, softly falling curl.   
Kael was speechless. He had never seen this kind of magic, let alone read about it. _How did she do that?_  
"What are you staring at now? Has the great almost-Archmage run out of words?"   
"I... " _That hair. That spell!_  
When he was still silent, she came closer, grabbed his neck and kissed him on the forehead. "Take the coldest thing you can imagine. This is your heart. Goodbye, Kael!" She untied herself, turned around and left the room with her bag pressed against her chest.


	2. The Antimage

The next morning Kael struggled to get out of bed. He would have preferred to linger half-asleep in the soft pillows, but his tight schedule did not allow for it. The archmage preparation was a year-long full-time task, not a leisure activity.  
He felt better after the bath. Wearing a dressing gown, he called his valet, Mister Taryòn, and had his hair combed and treated with spells to make it shinier. Meanwhile, he flipped through his book.   
_What would I save time with Rubinia's magic,_ he thought. _I'll find it, eventually._  
When Mister Taryòn finally finished, Kael's stomach growled, but there was little time for breakfast. He rushed down the stairs, but then stopped when loud voices came out of the dining room.   
His parents. Arguing. Again.  
"Let me worry about that, Elìrios!" his mother shouted.  
"Since I married you, I have a say in that, too."  
His mother laughed brightly. "You are getting ridiculous."  
There was a short pause. Kael could imagine his father standing there, his shoulders drooping, his eyes fixed on his feet.  
"If you had nothing to do with it," Elìrios said, "why did I read in the paper today-"  
"Elìrios," she replied sharply, and he fell silent.  
That was his father. He kept giving in. His mother was cut from a different cloth. Just like Kael, otherwise, he would not have managed to write six books at the tender age of thirty-one, apart from the fact that he would soon become the youngest archmage in the country. Moreover, the first male archmage, which should mean something. Magic was still considered a woman's domain. But Kael would drive out all their prejudices.  
He was about to push the handle down when the voices started to flare up again. That was extraordinary. Usually, his father gave in after the first insult. It had to be important to him.  
Kael sat down on the marble stairs and waited. Experience had taught him that it was better not to get into such an argument. Luckily he had his book with him. He pulled it out of his pocket, de-shrunk it and looked for the right passage.  
Steps approached, and he looked up. Myriam Treverer smiled down at him. "Good morning, Kael."  
He pulled a wry face. "I want to know what's good about this morning."  
"Are they fighting again?" she asked, with a nod to the door.  
He sighed. "Have they ever done anything else?"  
"Then we'll wait together." She sat down close beside him and read his book. "What are you reading?"  
She was the only person he allowed so much proximity to. He had known her since he could remember - as leader of the secret guard of the Sunstriders she was the closest confidante of his mother. Moreover - and this was the decisive criterion -- she had exquisite taste in literature.  
"This is Koryx's memoirs, so mostly..."  
"...ice magic," she completed. "This Koryx was a true artist."  
He raised his head. "Interesting. I was not aware that Koryx's writings are also read by destruction mages."  
She smiled. "That was my private interest. I was also once young and interested in the more elegant forms of magic. Unfortunately, my parents weren't as tolerant as yours, and I had to study what is socially considered as 'useful'."  
"In what way plump violence is useful?" he asked with a frown.  
They remained silent for a while and listened to the muffled voices that came through the door. His 'tolerant' parents did not seem to have calmed down yet.  
"I think they're arguing this time because of last night's operation", Myriam said. "Your father is always so sceptical when we crack down hard. But yesterday we solved a problem that's been bothering your mother for years."  
 _Last night's operation?_  
He was about to make an inquiry when the door opened, and his father rushed out with a sour expression on his face, closely followed by Kael's mother. He threw an irritated look at Kael and Myriam, and then he turned to Akàri: "Look who's here," with a nod of his head he pointed to Myriam, "you can continue with your scourge hunts right away."  
She wiped the remark away with an impatient hand movement. "Enough, Elìrios. Not in front of the boy!"  
Elìrios stared at her, his mouth slightly open. Then he gave himself a jolt and put on his mask. He turned to Kael. "Good morning, Kael' thas." He ignored Myriam, as so often, and she let it pass over her without any emotion.  
His mother smiled sweetly. "Ah, Kael' thas, Madame Treverer."  
Kael' thas. How he hated that name. He tilted his head "Good morning, Mother."   
Akàri exchanged a glance with Madame Treverer. "Unfortunately we have to leave, today everything is so chaotic. Have a fantastic day, my darling." With these words, she rushed out, followed by Myriam.  
Kael sat down at the opulently laid table and was about to pour himself a glass of orange juice when a hand lay heavily on his shoulder. He let the carafe float to the ground and turned his head.   
"Mind if I join you?" his father asked. He still looked tired from the fight.  
 _Yes,_ Kael thought and looked longingly at his book.  
"No, of course not," he said and straightened his position.  
Elìrios sat down opposite him and had tea poured by a servant. Lost in thought, he sipped on it, and for a while, they remained silent. When Kael wanted to get his book back, his father leaned forward. "Aren't you dining with Rubìnia today?"  
"Oh" Kael made an annoyed gesture. "Rubìnia has left."  
"Has left"?  
Kael took a big sip of orange juice. "She has left me."  
His father sighed in agony. "She left you?"  
Reluctantly Kael put down his glass again. This would be an unpleasant conversation; his father was always so sentimental about profitable relationships. Like there's nothing more important in the world. "Father," he said imploringly. "I beg you. It's no big deal. My exam is in four months, and after that, I can take care of -"  
A servant woman rushed into the hall, and he fell silent, relieved at the distraction.  
"My Lord", she bowed to Elìrios, "A letter has arrived for you. It is from your esteemed mother."  
"Give me that," his father said, holding out his hand. "What could she possibly want?" he murmured and eyed the envelope suspiciously.  
Kael grabbed a piece of foie gras pâté. He decided to take advantage of Elìrios' brief diversion to retreat and thus escape further inquisitorial questions from his father. "I was just leaving anyway, Father. Science won't wait." With these words, he bit into his pâté and hurried out of the hall.

  
Kael got out of the carriage and blinked into the glistening sunlight. Flocks of seagulls flew high above his head, and the salty sea air tickled his nose. Fukuòka's capital Nishaì was located directly by the sea. It was the second-largest city in Finistère and was home to the country's largest port - one of the main reasons for Fukuòka's wealth. From here, magical goods such as potions, books, amulets, enchanted weapons and the like were shipped to the human lands of Mandalia and Lindenreich and exchanged for chocolate, coffee, spices and silver. There was wild activity in the harbour, commands were shouted back and forth, and people were scurrying around everywhere to load and unload the ships. Usually, they first drove the goods to the warehouses built on massive wooden piles, from where they were then transported to the entire country.   
The whole thing was too hectic for Kael, and the many noises hurt his elven ears. Nevertheless, he loved the bustling city. The best thing about Nishaì was the famous Ultimyr Academy with its two exquisite libraries, where Kael spent his industrious days.  
As he strolled springy through the palm-lined boulevard, his former fellow student Nortrom came towards him.  
 _How unpleasant!_  
But now it was too late, to look aside, Nortrom was already waving to him. Roshan, what he did not want to have a chat. They had studied transformation magic together and shared the bed more than once during these six years, the latter more out of boredom or procrastination than affection. It was not easy for Kael to meet ex-lovers, mostly they were resentful because of some insignificant trifle, and the atmosphere was tense.  
"Kael, is that necessary?" asked Nortrom and stared at Kael's cream-coloured parasol. "It makes you look as dodgy as you act."  
"I don't know what's wrong with you," Kael replied. "Sunlight ages the skin." He looked at Nortrom from the side. "You should get a parasol too."  
"What are you trying to say?" Nortrom hissed.  
"Nothing," he said innocently and strutted away. _Danger averted,_ he thought contentedly.  
He never liked Nortrom anyway. He was dull and way too silent during sex.  
Kael had been carrying parasols since he could remember. He had light, translucent skin that burned at the slightest exposure to the sun. He had inherited it from his mother, just like the grey, almost pearl-white glowing eyes. Yes, Kael and his mother stood out, in every way.  
At the beginning of his studies at the Ultimyr Academy, he had developed a sun-protection-spell as a test. Still, he had never made his successful project public. Such a parasol only emphasized his type advantageously. He didn't want to take this fashionable effect ad absurdum just because there was now a spell that could be cast by anyone.

The first thing Kael did was to run to the printing house, which published his books. A routine he had gotten used to since he had written his first book, eight years ago.   
He couldn't wait to see his latest manuscript on meta-magic freshly printed in the shelves. "Spells Plucked from the Arcanery," he had called it.   
A great title, he thought. Once again, I've outdone myself.  
The annoying salesman with the dark curls was already scurrying towards him at the door. He bowed down. "Ah, Lord Sunstrider. How may I serve you today?"  
Kael didn't react to him. He headed for the shelf with the exhibited works, skimmed the titles, and became angrier and angrier.  
"My new book, where is it?"  
The salesman twirled his greased forelock. "Ah, that. Hmmm. "Your last books weren't so popular, so we..."   
Kael had heard enough. The world is just too stupid for my ingenious studies!, he thought in frustration. He silenced the salesman with an unequivocal gesture. "Get your supervisor!"  
The boy disappeared behind the counter, only to return shortly afterwards with Kael's publisher. She bowed to him. "Lord Sunstrider, what a pleasure!"  
"I wish I could return the compliment," he grumbled. "When will you print my newest manuscript?"  
She played nervously with the bow of her dress. "My Lord, I'm afraid things look terrible at the moment. We have problems selling your books; people are looking more for light reading or the latest advice on destruction magic."  
He snorted. "Light fiction is for deadheads!"  
"Why don't you write a manual of destruction magic?" the salesman with the greasy lock interfered. "Especially in times like these, people need advice for self-defence."  
"I didn't ask for your opinion," Kael blared.   
"Of course, my lord, of course." Mister Greasy-curl took a bow and retreated behind the storefront.  
His publisher - he should finally remember her name - nodded. "Thyrael, of course, has set a rash example. However, he is right about one thing, a ..."  
Kael exploded. "Enough!" he shouted. "I don't write for money. I write to bring a painstakingly crafted work, the fruit of many years, through the printing to storage and communication." He wandered around the printing house, gesturing violently. "I am not one of those bad scribblers, who ruin one so-called 'book' after another. The only thing I have in common with them is the accidental use of ink and pen-" His gaze got caught on an oversized poster. It showed a dark brown guy with imposing upper arms, staring grimly out of the picture. The purple tattoos on his face underscored this grimness. His head had been shaved off at the sides, only at the top he had left a brown-red tuft of hair. The low-cut tunic left little room for imagination, so tightly stretched it over the thick chest muscles.  
The rage rose in him. _That is unbelievable! My books are rejected, and something like this is put on the first shelves!_  
He tore the picture from the wall and held it under the nose of the baffled publisher. "Did he hang that up, your Thryri - Thyrael?!"  
He gave the salesman such a poisonous look that Mister Greasy-curl took two steps back. "What is this? Is this prestigious publishing-house turning into a rag press? Romances with the 'muscular, reckless stranger'? This stuff is so beneath me!"  
His publisher raised her hands, reassuringly. "My Lord. This is not part of our program. This is the sketch of the Antimage."   
_'Antimage'? What a ridiculous name!_ But the guy in the picture didn't look like he had much self-reflection or wit either.  
"Who is this Antimage?" he growled.  
"You don't know him? He's the most dangerous killer in Finistère. The newspapers are full of his atrocities, for years now."  
"I have something better to do than read these cheesy papers!"  
Again the publisher bowed. "Of course, my lord. I just thought ... Since you, as a celebrated magician, are surely threatened by him..."  
"Threatened?"   
"He hates magic, so he challenges the most powerful mages to a duel and kills them. No one has ever survived."  
 _Then he should have challenged me and not those silly screw-ups,_ Kael thought.   
"He hates magic? What madness," he said.  
Mister greasy-curl was all ears now. He leaned over the counter. "Yes, it's complete madness. He must be crazy, who would voluntarily mess with a magician like Madame Throsho or Sàksa?"  
"He was quite capable of estimating his powers", his publisher interjected, "otherwise those two would still be alive."  
It was indeed, astonishing. Throsho and Sàksa had made a name for themselves as duelists all over Finistère. "How did he beat them?" he thought aloud.  
Again it was Greasy-curl who answered. "He is a master of all kinds of weapons, but he could also kill a magician with his bare hands, his melee skills are legendary. Recently he split a magician's skull with a single kick."   
The thought sent shivers down Kael's spine. But Mister 'greasy curl's face glowed with zeal.   
How enthusiastic he is, Kael thought. Probably muscular guys where exactly his type. A frugal taste, matching the trivial literature on the shelf here.  
The "facts" that Mister greasy-curl were presenting couldn't be right. No reasonable person would stand up to trained magicians. Besides, a human would not fight with melee weapons and kicks, but would instead draw the musket. It did not make sense at all.  
He nodded goodbye and left the room.  
"Have you heard anything about an Antimage?" he asked Mr. Taryòn, who had been waiting outside the door.  
His servant bowed. "Of course, my lord."  
"Hmm", said Kael. _I wonder if I had overlooked anything significant so far?_  
Anyway, he had wasted enough time! His exam!

They rushed to the Ultimyr Academy. Here, as so often, he entrenched himself in the library and gathered a list of books he had chosen as a basis for the next week's study. It was tedious, over and over again, he had to send Mr. Taryòn to bring more stacks of books, which Kael did not appreciate after a few pages.   
Today he was not concentrated. More than once, he was overwhelmed by anger about that stupid publishing house with its romances, and he had to put his list aside and run in endless circles to calm down. _Concentration, Kael!,_ he reminded himself.  
In the afternoon, his eyes were exhausted, and the list was finally worked off. His last action was to sneak into the 'Everyday Magic' department. This was more crowded than his Transformation Magic Sanctuary, a horde of young gentlemen huddled giggling around a pile of colourful magazines with titles like: "Magic and Love – how to enchant HER with amulets" or "Styling tricks for fancy wizards". When they saw him, they stepped aside in awe and began to whisper.  
Eye-rolling, he fought his way through all that shallow crap until he reached the shelf he was searching. There he rummaged through the magazines with the hair spells. He knew most of them already, Kael had also been young once and had hoarded similar magazines under his bed. Incredible how little had changed in the last years! When he almost gave up, he found it.   
_Rubinia's magic!_  
The fabulous hair spell - tames every hair with a simple wave of the hand.  
Smiling with satisfaction, he stuffed the magazine under his arm and paced to the carriage. His servant was already busy loading the meter-high stack of books into the trunk. He opened the door for Kael with an elegant bow and the silver buttons of his light green livery sparkled in the afternoon sun.  
The carriage got into motion, but it was difficult for Kael to fall into his thoughts as usual. The idea that a murderer was running around, challenging the best of all magicians and yet overlooking Kael, disturbed him like a splinter in his finger. No one was allowed to ignore him!


	3. Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liked the idea, that the invoker gives all his former colleagues nicknames (I found that in "Jealousy" by AmyAndAmnesia), so I transferred this to his mother in my story.  
> For me, the invoker was more a piano person, but after reading "Elements" from YashaAndKaya" the violin seemed rather fitting.
> 
> Ah, and the "hologram spell" is like picking up a (video) phone and calling another person. A silencing spell is not the "silence" we know from dota, but a magical sphere around you to prevent others to hear any sound from you.

Kaèl made himself comfortable at home at the table. At the moment he toasted with Elìrios and sipped an aperitif, his mother returned from her official duties.   
"This vain clown was such a nuisance!" she cursed and threw her cape in the servant's face. Akàri did not like to call her subordinates by name; she invented nicknames that were so concise that even Kaèl, who showed no interest in politics or the people behind it, could remember them. The 'vain clown' was the elected head of the third-largest city in Fukuòka.   
Akàri was conservative about politics. She did not appreciate men in influential positions. She only turned a blind eye to Kael's efforts to achieve the archmage title, as she did to almost everything that came into the mind of her 'golden boy'.  
She sat down opposite him and rubbed her temples. "And will you meet Rubìnia tonight?"  
His father cleared his throat softly.  
"Rather not, Mother. She left me."  
"So it's true," she cried. She exchanged looks with Kaèls father.   
"I told you..." Elirios started.  
"She's a lady, a Taifu," his mother ranted. "Do you have any idea what such a marriage would have meant for our family? The Taifus own the largest and most fertile land in Finistère. And you're nullifying everything because you're too arrogant to care for this girl?"  
Kael rolled his eyes. "She is boring. There are enough other noblewomen in the world."  
"All of them you find boring," cried his father. "Myriam Macalister, Lània Kàshiko", he wrung his hands. "Whenever we are thinking 'at last', it is over again. "Our son drives them all away!"  
"Yes, yes, it's tragic", Kael said, suppressing a yawn. "I'll try harder next time, I promise."  
"I'm fed up," his mother yelled. She had pushed herself up and bent over the table threateningly, turkey red in colour. "You are getting married this year, whether you like it or not. As long as you live in my house, Kaèl' thas, you will do what is best for the Sunstriders."  
Kael froze. Looking for a hold, he reached for the heavy velvet of the tablecloth.  
"There's a ball at the Ryunòrs' this weekend. We're leaving the day after tomorrow." His mother narrowed her eyes. "You'll come with us."  
He moaned inside. _Not again with the Ryunòrs._ "I...  
"Don't argue! We will choose a girl for you there; you will dance and talk. You will laugh in all the right places and enchant her with your beauty and eloquence. Then you will let her take you out, and then, damn it, you will marry her, do you understand me?"  
"I...", he put on. Her eyes tolerated no contradiction, so he gave a faint nod. "Yes, Mother."  
"You are thirty-one years old. We have given you plenty of time to try yourself out. At your age, I already had an eight-year-old son and ruled the country."  
 _That old song again._ It was not his fault that she had to give up everything for marriage!  
"Well, were you happy?" he asked provocatively.  
"It's not about happiness," she thundered. "Do you think I would ever have been happy with your father?"  
Elirios flinched. "Don't say that in front of the boy."  
She gave him an icy look. "Why not? "This marriage is the greatest military achievement of the century. Surely I can take credit for it?"  
As if Kael didn't know. Ever since he could remember - and that was a long time, as Kael's memory was excellent - his parents had argued, or rather his mother had yelled at his father. Kaèl had got into the habit of always carrying a book with him, behind the cover of which he would hide on these occasions.   
He lowered his head over his scallop cream. "Yes, Mother. A wonderful achievement."  
"Marriage is not a burst of joy," said his father, and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Who put that into the heads of you young people?"  
The rest of the meal was silent. Kaèl chewed his way through the field salad with pine nuts and the halibut fillet without really tasting it. He didn't dare to raise his head.  
"Today is the second time in this lunar cycle that halibut has been served," his father remarked. "Not very imaginative. I shall dismiss Miss Winterbotton."  
Of course, he would. That would make it the tenth head of the household this year—a new record.  
Kael was glad when he finally knocked the bland taste off with the digestif. He nodded to his parents and retired.

  
With hanging head, he walked to his room. He sat down on his armchair and cast the hologram spell. When Lina's fiery red hair appeared in front of him, he breathed in relief.  
"You? What a surprise," she said.   
"Yes, yes", he said. "I know it's been a while since we've been in touch."  
"A few years."  
 _A few years? What time had passed!_  
Lina and he would have been the perfect couple if she hadn't been so cruel all the time. "Lina the Slayer", the others had called her behind her back.  
"Lina, I've split up with Rubìnia."  
"Aha", she said uninterested. That was predictable."   
"It wouldn't be so bad, but now mother is forcing me to get married as soon as possible. She wants me to go to all the balls and win the hearts of young noblewomen. I have no time for such things. My exam is in four months!"   
"Oh, the exam." She made a disdainful gesture. "You were already annoying me with her when we were together."  
"It's a long and serious matter. Otherwise, any magician could become an Archmage!"  
"Is that why you called? To tell me you're unhappy? I have better things to do."  
He sighed deeply. "Lina, will you marry me?"  
"Sorry, what?"  
"Whether we want to get married."  
"I understood your words already, Kael. I just need to process them first."  
"Does that mean, yes?"  
She snorted. "Kael, we've been separated for more than four years now. You had broken up. What in Roshan's name made you think I could say yes now?"  
"I thought it over. Things weren't so bad back then, with us.  
"Really? What did you do after I interrupted your reading two times during that one carriage ride?"   
"Interrupted? You deliberately poured hot tea down my neck!"   
She rolled her eyes. "Little things. I had to attract your attention with something. What did you say about me in front of the whole court?" She put her hand in quotation marks. "Lina's faults are fractal; even her faults have faults, and so on to infinity."  
He giggled. "I remember."  
"This has cost my family and me our reputation," she drove at him. "It took years for an impoverished gentry like me to be invited to festivities again."  
"Oh," he said. "That's... _unfortunate_. Fine, I was annoyed with you then, but now I think I could come to terms with your moods if I tried hard."  
She crossed her arms. "How very charming."  
"Look, I was young and impulsive, but today I'd be different..."  
"Oh, really?" she said. "And what about that cute little gardener you had that nice summer affair with?"  
 _Who is she talking about? Oh yes, probably that little sportsman I had a brief affair with two months ago, while Rubìnia was staying at her summer castle._  
"You mean Timanty?", Kael guessed.   
"Timothy!" she corrected him.  
"Timanty, Timothy, whatever." Civil ones didn't stay in his mind for long, as most nobles, Kaèl changed those kinds of affairs faster than his clothes.  
"You called him a 'whiny wimp with the sexual refinement of a donkey' in front of all his friends."  
"I hadn't insulted him," he defended himself. "I had only described him!"  
"The kid was heartbroken."  
 _Not long,_ he remembered. Lina' comforted' him for a few weeks after that, until she got bored with him too, but apparently, she had forgotten that part of the story.   
"That seems to be your tactic in general," she continued and pointed with her index finger at his chest that Kaèl was afraid she could stick out of the hologram. "You dismiss all people as 'mindless' just to feel better. Yes, that seems much more mature to me than the old you, when we were together.  
"So you won't marry me?" he asked.   
She shook her head.  
"This is as incomprehensible as it is regrettable," he said.   
There was a brief pause, and then he smiled conciliatorily. "In retrospect, I miss a few things about you."  
Her expression grew milder. "I miss our exchanges too, Kaèl. But let's be honest. This thing between us won't work in the long run. With Rubìnia, the whole tragedy of your relationship lasted four years; she seems to have such a high threshold for pain. Why don't you go back to her and ask for her hand, so you can escape from all these festivities."  
"Yes," he replied reluctantly. "I thought about that for a moment. "But she's so unbearably penetrating and witless." Except for her hair magic, he added in his mind.  
Lina rolled her eyes. "Kael, when did you become so cynical?"  
He lowered his head.   
"If you can't stand your parents' pressure, lower your expectations and fulfil your damned duties as the future lord of the land. What are you living in a castle with over four hundred rooms for? To avoid your future wife as efficiently as possible!"  
"I can see from my parents that that's not working!"  
"Oh? Is your father out of tranquillizers?  
That' s gone too far. Kaèl made an annoyed gesture. "Let's change the subject. Have you heard about this Antimage?"  
"Why do you ask, did he kill anyone again?"  
"So, yes?"  
"Yes, what?"  
"You've heard of him?"  
She snorted. "What kind of question is that again, Kael? Have you looked at a newspaper in the last few years?"  
When he remained stubbornly silent, she continued: "Of course, how could I forget. You don't care about what's happening in this country, your country." She laughed softly. "This ignorance is very dangerous, as the future ruler of Fukuòka."  
"Yes, very funny. But that's changing now. Where does this guy live?"  
"How should I know? A murderer wouldn't tell me, otherwise, they'd have caught him by now."  
Then that's a secret I'll solve, Kaél thought. No one is going to overlook me unpunished!  
She squinted her eyes. "Why are you asking all this?"  
"I saw his poster today and thought that as" he lowered his voice "future ruler of Fukuòka should pay him a visit and settle the matter."  
"No", she shouted. "You don't want to..."  
"Why not? It'll be fun."  
Lina chuckled. "You don't think a transformation mage like you stand a chance against him?"  
He rolled his eyes. _There she goes again._  
Even if he never admitted it in front of her, Lina was one of the best destruction mages in the country. During their relationship, she had always teased him about his lack of interest in it.  
"I have more destruction magic in my little finger than all the other fools he killed," Kael replied offended. "I am a Sunstrider and soon to be the first male archmage in the land, and this guy ignores me?"  
"Honestly, keep your hands off him. The guy is dangerous. As much as you annoy me, I want you alive a little longer. Maybe I can get a couple more Timothy after you've finished them off."  
He grumbled.  
"Just because you're permanently bored doesn't mean you have to kill yourself, Kael!"  
"What makes you think I'm bored? I can hardly catch my breath with all my studying and books I have to perfect."  
"Intuition. I know you, Kael."  
"What is this 'intuition'?"  
She rolled her eyes. "Knowledge beyond reflection."  
"I know the definition. But since when do you believe in such things?"   
"I have neither the time nor the coloured pencils to explain it to you now," she said.  
"Yes, very funny. Keep on ironizing until you get a sarcasm," he muttered and ended the conversation. It all became too esoteric for him, typically Lina.  
Frustrated, he paced up and down the room, when his eyes fell on the parchment scroll that was crumpled up in his bag. He pulled it out, smoothed it out and stared into the Antimage's cold eyes.  
 _I'll get you eventually,_ he thought. _Sooner or later you'll surrender to my spells._  
He couldn't bring himself to throw the painting away, and instead, he carefully folded it and put it between the books on his bedside table.  
As sleep was not an option yet, he grabbed his violin and sat down on the windowsill. The evening was pleasantly cool, and for a while, he looked at the stars. Then he cast a silencing spell around him, pressed the instrument under his chin and played.


	4. Hunter and hunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got inspired to the last scene of this chapter by reading Aditus "Soulmate".
> 
> "Men's gold" is not purely an invention -- in Germany in the fifties there was "Frauengold" (women's gold) to "tame" rebelling housewives (with alcohol disguised as medicine). As in my fictional world, mostly women are in power, it is turned around and used as a "cure" for housemen.

The newspaper rustled. "And again this villain has struck," his father said, pouring another shot of 'men's gold' into his tea. He hoarded countless potions in his apothecary, but 'men's gold' was his absolute favourite. He was not alone in his opinion, spurred on by the clever advertising promises: 'A cure with men's gold - and you only see the good sides. For vitality, freshness and inner balance' - it was the hit among all bored, aristocratic househusbands. Kaèl suspected that behind the shining tonic, there was nothing more than liquid opium.   
"The Antimage?" his mother asked, and Kael looked up at the mention of the name. "Who did he kill this time?"  
"Madame Hroth."  
"Ah, the leader of the army of Whitecrows. I can't imagine how he defeated her."  
"He always picks the best ones." Elirios closed the newspaper.  
 _And why not me?,_ Kael asked himself. He bent over. "If he's so dangerous, why don't they stop him?"  
"Yes, if it were that simple, the guy would be dead by now", said his mother. "But he is hiding; nobody knows where his shelter is. I put the grey ones of Mrs. Treverer on him some time ago, but up to now, they did not succeed in their search. "She crumpled her napkin in her fist.  
"Do they have any idea where he can be found?"  
"Kael' thas, I don't want to hear about it on my free day. If you're so hot on the subject, ask Madame Treverer, she'll have it all carefully documented, as usual."  
"Hmmm", mumbled Kael thoughtfully.  
 _Perhaps my six books are not enough; perhaps I need to show myself more in public to draw his attention to my groundbreaking magic._  
"What is this with the Antimage all of a sudden?", his father asked.  
"Nothing", lied Kaèl and lowered his head over his egg soup with saffron.   
_Maybe I really should take a look at Myriam's documents._  
He lowered his spoon.  
 _Why not now?_ He wasn't hungry anymore anyway.  
He got up suddenly. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave you to eat alone. "I'm sorry, but I have to pick up an essential book for my exam."  
But instead of taking the carriage to Nishaì, he hurried to the west wing of the castle and knocked on Myriam's door. As the closest confidante of his mother, she lived in a comfortable apartment in the castle so that she could always be at hand. It took some time before he heard footsteps. It was the weekend, he remembered, she must have been off duty.   
The door opened, and a grey-haired elf, unknown to him, peeped through the crack. When she saw him, she flinched. "Lord Sunstrider!"  
"Is Madame Treverer here?  
The woman disappeared without saying another word. A few moments later Myriam appeared with tousled hair. Her face relaxed when she saw him. "Oh, it's you, Kaèl." She smiled conspiratorially. "I was afraid your parents had found out about Elìsa and me."  
Kael placed an index finger on his lips and shook his head. Myriam was a lesbian, but because of her high status, and especially because of the conservative attitude of Kaèl's mother, she was forced to hide her various relationships, just like Kaèl hid his libidinal experiments. For this reason there was a tacit agreement between them. More than once, she had provided him with an alibi for an exquisite weekend.   
"What can I help you with?" she asked.  
"The Council of the Eleven is currently investigating the Antimage's crimes, and Mother thinks that you have information about him."  
He didn't want to admit that he alone was interested in the topic, so it was good to put forward an instance like the illustrious group of archmages.  
"I have archived some information about him, but have not yet evaluated it," she said.  
"May I see the records?"  
"Be my guest!", Myriam said. "I'll have them sent to your room." 

Less than an hour later, a servant brought a large metal box full of papers, articles and notes. Kaèl poured it all out on the floor and rummaged through the newspaper articles and papers of the last years.   
He seemed to have missed a lot through his lonely studies. The Antimage had committed more than a dozen murders throughout Finistère during the last few years. It was always the same: He collected information about his victims or stalked them until he had internalized their habits. Then he would wait for them in a lonely place and challenge them to a duel. And then he killed them. It was amazing, not one of his victims had escaped with his life, even though the attacked mages had definitely been able to defend themselves.  
With his finger, he followed the places of the crimes on a map of Finistère. It seemed as if the Antimage had systematically targeted one lordship after the other to commit his atrocities there. Five of the nine lordships he had already worked through.  
The first murders had taken place in Whisperwood, near the border of the country Dinstermor, where the humans lived. There was little information about this, Kaèl assumed that the authorities had not recognized any connection between the deaths at that time. But then the murders spread via Ryumàr to Avalon. Since then, the Antimage filled the headlines of the newspapers and caused all kinds of speculation. The phantom picture was created and hung in all shops and offices, without success: The Antimage could not be stopped. Last year he had haunted Beechlands and Willows, and last, for almost half a year, Kaèls Fukuòka.  
It was interesting that the Antimage had been spotted several times in taverns, where, in exchange for a few drinks and a warm meal, he gathered information about his victims.  
Kaèl took out a more detailed plan of Fukuòka and drew there all the inns and markets where he had been reported. These visits formed a radial pattern around a region near the centre of Fukuòka. Apparently, the Antimage had settled down, and if Kaèl interpreted his markings correctly, in the middle of the Silver Forest.  
Kaèl rejoiced. _The murderer lives nearby!_  
Kael's research must have taken hours, for it was already dark when he awoke from his industrious trance. 

Together with Mister Taryòn he returned the documents to the secret archives. This time Myriam was sitting there at her desk, pen in hand. "Well, did you find anything?" she asked when she received the papers.  
He hesitated briefly. Something stopped him from telling her the truth. This was his business, and only he wanted to solve the mystery of the Antimage without the help of Myriam's secret guard.  
"Not really," he lied. "He seems to change his location regularly." He shrugged his shoulders. "Too bad, that won't be of any help to the chosen eleven."  
"Soon, they will be called 'the chosen twelve'." She blinked at him.  
He was warm with joy. _Only four more months!_  
She stiffed her posture. "As for the Antimage -- We have posted guards on all major streets and city gates. Do not worry; your paths are safe."  
Don't worry. He wiped the grin off his face. My worry is rather that he won't find me.  
But that would soon change. In some places, the Antimage had been spotted several times in a row. If he were to seek information there next time, his informants would put him on a completely different track. One that led into Kael's neatly spun web.  
He already had the headlines in his head, should his cunning plan work out:   
**"Sensation! The country's youngest archmage defeats Antimage!"**  
"If the mountain won't come to Mohammed, Mohammed must go to the mountain" he murmured.

  
oOOo

  
Everything about that place was desolate. The fields were harvested stubbly, the paths dusty and a lonely mutt was barking behind a fence. A farmer's wife with a headscarf gave him a suspicious look as Kaèl walked along the gravel road to the only tavern. He had deliberately chosen simple clothes and darkened his hair with a spell so as not to be recognized as Lord Sunstrider. He had left the stately carriage a few hundred metres away from the village.   
Nevertheless, he seemed to stand out as an elf in this village, which was mainly inhabited by humans. There were a few of them scattered over Fukuòka - the humans had settled here sometime during the last two decades to escape the hunger and diseases that regularly shook their homelands.  
Kael's parents regarded these migrations with suspicion. But the humans here paid their taxes obediently and brought their crop into Nishaìs storehouse year after year, so his parents lacked the right motivation to chase the humans away again.  
Kaèl had an indifferent attitude towards humans. He didn't know anyone personally, the last war was over seventy years ago, and his grandparents' stories of inquisition and torture were nothing more to him than long gone horror stories.  
He did not understand, however, why the humans were segregating themselves in villages like this one. The towns of Fukuòka were so much more appealing - the underdeveloped humans could have learned a lot from the mages there.   
_Probably they don't want to learn anything from us at all, he thought,_ looking at the poor mud houses. _What an unfortunate, sad existence they have chosen!_  
The inn was the only wooden house in the village. At the door, Kaèl hesitated briefly. Already out here, the smell of cheap liquor and food fried in rancid fat was hitting him. Looking for help, he glanced at his guards, who had relaxedly positioned themselves on either side of the door.  
He gave himself a jolt and pushed the handle down. Inside, the smell was almost unbearable, and the air in the room was stale. Kaèl felt uneasy. It was not his style to spend too much time with others in closed rooms. Luckily it was late afternoon, and the tavern was only sparsely visited, with only three older men sitting in a corner playing cards.  
Kaèl stepped to the counter. The bald innkeeper let an astonished look wander between Kaèl and his escort. He made an awkward bow. "Welcome, my noble guest."  
 _"My noble guest" not "mylord"._ Kael's disguise seemed to have served its purpose.  
"Do you know this person?" He held up the phantom picture of the Antimage to the innkeeper's face.  
"I've seen this one before," the innkeeper thought aloud. "He's been here, a few times. Why do you ask?"  
Kael rolled up the picture again, not without having a glance at it himself. "This is the Antimage, a wanted murderer."  
The host flinched, pale around the nose. "I was unaware of this."  
 _Liar,_ Kaél thought. _You're protecting him, like most of the humans here._  
The Antimage seemed to enjoy some popularity among the humans of Fukuòka. Witnesses had even reported that he had been given food or other small gifts several times. But that is not why Kaèl was here today.   
"Whatever." He pulled out his wallet and threw it on the counter. "If this guy shows up here again and asks for information about one of his future victims, you will tell him this: 'Kaèl Sunstrider is the more important mage. If he should kill one, kill him.'"  
"Let me get this straight. You want me to set the Antimage on Lord Sunstrider?"  
"Exactly", Kael said.  
The man moved the wallet back to Kael. "I will not put our lord in such danger. Who are you to suggest such a thing anyway!"  
Unnerved, Kaèl released the spell, and his platinum blond hair flew over his shoulders. The man stared confusedly; then he opened his eyes. "Lord Sunstrider?"  
"The one and only."  
"But... "You want..." the innkeeper stuttered.  
"Do as I have told you." Without even looking at the innkeeper, he marched to the exit.


	5. An advantageous alliance

The only thing that stood in the way of his plans with the Antimage was this insufferable ball of the Ryunòrs. Since their castle in Wyvern was situated three days' journey from Fukuòka, this meant a bitter cut in Kael's freedom. He hated long carriage rides, especially in summer, when the dust was whirled through the air and his clothes stuck to his sweaty body.  
To make matters worse, his parents behaved strangely. Already on the way to the Ryunòr's residence, both mother and father were remarkably harmonious, almost in high spirits and motivated to engage in conversation with him.   
Kaèl was annoyed; he had packed himself reading material that was long overdue. His workload was immense and demanded strict discipline to be mastered by the day of the exam. But apparently, this ridiculous ball was more important to them than the Archmage exam -- they tore him out of his thoughts incessantly.  
"You'll see, Kael, we've thought of an extraordinary surprise for you."  
"Hmm," Kael said without taking his eyes off his book.

When they finally arrived, everything was as usual, the Ryunòrs were waiting for them at the gate, and Ludòiku made great gestures to help Kael's mother out of the carriage, which she accepted with a slight blush. Chattering loudly, they strolled to the side, lost in their little world. Meanwhile, Serèika, ruler of the united magical kingdom of Finistère, and Kaèl's father stood beside the carriage with folded arms and remained silent. Kaèl felt sorry for his father, Serèika was not able to hold a friendly conversation. Kaèl had often wondered how she had succeeded as a ruler, given her lack of diplomacy. Akàri always said, not without a deep sigh, that this was due to her husband Ludòiku, who, unlike Kaèl's father, was actively involved in court life and maintained good relations with the other noble families.  
Kaèl could hardly imagine this, as harmless as Ludòiku usually seemed. He gazed at the two of them, but then noticed that they had probably been eyeing him for some time, which irritated him.  
At the banquet, he was placed next to Nyòko, Ludòikus and Sereìka's daughter and crown princess of Finistère. Outwardly she resembled Serèika, with her long, straight black hair, but there were few similarities in character - fortunately, because her mother's temperament was legendary. In former times, Kaèl had not paid much attention to Nyòko, although he and his parents had spent almost all their holidays with the Ryunòrs. Compared to him, the girl was a chick.  
Nyòko's interest in him was also limited; she had demonstratively turned away from him and talked to her other neighbour, which was quite agreeable to Kaèl. So he had time to think.   
What else had Culween written about the four most common misconceptions of transformation magic?  
But something was bothering him. It was the person in the turquoise taffeta dress to his left. It seemed to have been babbling at him for a while. Kael tried hard to block it out, but she nudged him on the shoulder. "What do you say?"   
Kael flinched. "Excuse me. I wasn't listening." _My thoughts were better,_ he added in his mind.  
"Well, are you dancing, Lord Sunstrider?"  
"Not if I can avoid it."   
"Perhaps you'll reconsider." She smiled seductively. "Tonight's main event is a fast gallop."  
 _By Roshan, here we go again,_ Kaél thought. He was officially a bachelor again and the only child of the Sunstriders a feast for all female nobles.   
When he didn't reply, she said with a twinkle in her eye, "And bring good spirits with you."  
 _"Bring good spirits with you,"_ he mimicked her in his thoughts, _What a pity, so I can't come._  
After dinner, he tried to get away with a pretended excuse and had almost made it across the entire dance floor, but his mother was faster. She waved him over to the flower-decorated table at which she and Ludòiku stood and enjoyed themselves splendidly again. "Kael' thas, my precious, how did you converse at dinner?"   
"Well, well," Kael lied.  
"Ludòiku and I were just talking about how quickly time passes. Not long ago, you were not yet born, and now you are almost an archmage. And Iònatan is already in his fourth year!"  
"You should talk to each other, as one transformation sorcerer to another," Ludòiku said.  
"Hmm", Kaèl said reservedly. Ludòiku radiated so much happiness that he almost felt sick.  
"I am always amazed at what a stately lady Nyòko has become. So intelligent and determined, just like her father." Akàri smiled at Ludòiku, who seemed to be bursting with pride.  
Kaèl suppressed the need to roll his eyes.  
She waved a servant over and asked for two wine glasses. She let them float towards him and said, casually, "Why don't you go and talk to her, she's standing there all alone."  
"I'm tired, and I was just leaving, Mother."  
She grabbed him by the upper arm, a little too tight for his taste. "You pull yourself together now," she whispered, still smiling in Ludòikus direction. "We've already had this subject, so smile and entertain her well." With these words, she pushed him in Nyòko's direction.   
Sighing, he made his way across the half-empty dance floor. So that was the plan. He was to become the husband of the future ruler of Finistère. Not that he had anything against the title. He would then be something like a king - even if no one in Finistère, which preferred to call itself "federacy", would say so loudly.   
_King ... who would carry such a title with more dignity than me?_ He made a big plus on his imaginary list.  
But the girl was too young and boring for him. All Serèika's daughter she had inherited her dark complexion. With her ochre skin, the contrasting bright yellow eyes and the pleasantly corpulent figure, Nyòko was even a pretty elf (plus point), even if Kaèl generally preferred sorceresses. But whenever he conversed with her, she remained silent and introverted, so he had avoided her for the last few years _—a minus point._  
And in the end, she would be the one who held the strings of power in her hands, and he would only be a pleasant accessory.   
_Is this the role I had in mind?_  
He put a question mark in brackets behind his first plus point.  
Arriving at her, he indecisively groped from one foot to the other. "Hello," he said. "We haven't spoken for a long time."  
"Yes, that was nice," she murmured.  
He decided to disregard her pubescent comments but added ' _immature_ ' to the list in his mind. _No wonder how old was she? Twenty-two?_ "You look thirsty."  
"No, no, I'm fine, I was just about to go," she said reflexively, then she faltered and stared at a point behind Kael's back. He turned around and saw Ludòiku gesticulating agitatedly with her.  
"Oh, you know ... yes, a drink can't hurt," she said and let her shoulders droop.  
He held up the wine glasses.  
"I need something stronger now."  
He liked that. _Plus point!_ He waved a servant over and ordered two whiskeys, which he let Nyòko float over with an exaggerated bow. If he had to bow his head to one, at least do it ironically.  
She clasped the bellied glass and looked at the golden sparks inside without saying anything.  
Kael suppressed a yawn.   
_Luckily I'm a born storyteller, otherwise, this would be quite unpleasant, as dull as she is,_ he thought.  
"I read a fascinating publication on invocation magic this morning," he shouted against the onset of brass-band music. "There, the hypothesis is put forward that it is not the mage who chooses the creature into which he or she transforms, but that the creature itself sows the desire for transformation in the mage. This is a fascinating thought since it naturally raises the question as to how far our 'self-determined practice of magic' is an illusion.  
"Is that so?." Nyòko took a deep sip. Her cheeks turned red. "Exciting."  
 _Ah, she's hooked._  
He nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, it's quite possible that we are merely deterministic machines with fictitious freedom, which is what Archmage Culween, in her groundbreaking writings..."   
While he was elaborating on his points, Nyòko was acting strangely. Again and again, she peered at the big wing door or groped her foot on the floor.   
_Why is she behaving like that? She seems nervous._  
Then he realised it.  
 _Red cheeks, glassy eyes, nervous hands - all classic signs of falling in love. Is she attracted to me yet? That was fast again!_  
He couldn't blame her. Kaèl was of stately build, with splendid platinum blond hair, yet intelligent and educated. And funny. He was used to having everyone at his feet, all genders equally.  
 _But who would have thought that even the heart of the soon to be the most powerful person in Finistère could be conquered so easily?_  
Kaèl himself always waited with his well-measured expressions of affection until his imaginary list had reached a satisfying length and had at least a two-thirds majority of positive points. Of course, he weighted some points more heavily than others, and the royal title had some relevance. He smiled and started the next story.  
She yawned.  
"You have to imagine that," he excitedly said as he headed towards the climax of his story with big gestures, "he cast Gallaron's Abyssal Carnesphere first, and then the tornado, what a waste ..."   
It bothered him that Nyòko kept peeking at her watch. No typical mage wore such a thing, why were there time spells that showed the time more reliably?  
She poured down the last drop of whiskey and put the glass down on the high table. "This is exciting, Kael, but I..."  
At that moment, her older brother Iònatan appeared. "Here you are!"  
She jumped up and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Oh, I thought you weren't coming!" They hugged each other for a while, which was unpleasant for Kael. Too much intimacy.   
_I hope she won't expect me to behave like that later!_ _A big minus point._ Things were beginning to look grim for Nyòkos and his future together.  
Iònatan released her, held her by the shoulders and examined her. "Are you all right, Nyòko?"  
She nodded with a smile. "Of course, of course, Kaèl has just told me some exciting anecdotes about magic theory. What would life be tragic without it."  
Iònatan's eyes flashed. A hard line formed around his mouth. "Did he?" he asked. "How nice. Fascinating."  
Kaèl considered repeating his last story, when the guy said: "Nyòko, Prìssi has been looking for you for a while. I'll take you to her." He gave Kaèl a look that reflected open hostility. "Unfortunately, I have to kidnap my sister."   
And off they both went.

  
oOOo

  
"You and Nyòko seemed to have had a great time," his mother said on the trip home the next morning.  
Frowning, he mentally went through his pro/contra list about Nyòko. He had added a few more points to it at breakfast, plus points too, but it was still quite balanced. "Did it seem that way?"  
"Of course it did," she said. "Anyway, you're brilliant and witty, you're my precious. You just can't let it go now. We should send her a small card today. And in ten days there'll be a dance tea at the Macalister's, and Ludòiku and Nyòko want to come too."  
"Er, yes," he said, unpleasantly touched. "That's nice."   
She nodded contentedly and left Kael in peace. Happily, he buried himself into the golden cushions, pulled his book out of his pocket and began to read.


	6. Contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, they meet :-)  
> As I liked the idea of Kael sending butterflies to Magina (as seen in Aditus "Soulmate") I decided that the family emblem of the Sunstriders is a firefly (ok, not quite a butterfly, but it is somehow driven by the same idea ;-)

So far, Kael's plan didn't seem to work. Even a week after his return from the Ryunòrs, the Antimage had not made a move. Almost every day, Kaèl had been travelling to Nishaì by carriage, so he had given the Antimage enough opportunities for an attack. It was disappointing after all Kaèl had invested a lot of time and effort to bribe the innkeepers of the surrounding villages.  
But today was bright and beautiful weather, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and Kaèl's gaze kept wandering out of the library window into the park. Sighing, he closed his book on invocation magic. After all, there were still almost four months left until his exam, and he needed a break desperately. He decided to go for a ride. Contrary to the promise that Lina had taken from him, decided to go through the Silver Forest, the presumed location of the Antimage.  
He whistled happily, while he took his cream-coloured parasol out of the cupboard. His last stroll must have been months ago, probably when he had kept an eye on the gardener Timanty and watched him trimming the box trees in the park every day. But that had been just before midsummer, and now the summer was almost over.  
He ordered his driver here, who shortly afterwards appeared on the doorstep.   
"Take me to the Silver Forest," Kael ordered.   
The coachman turned his light green cap between his hands. "Mylord, if I may be permitted a remark ... the Silver Forest is dangerous, you'd better take an escort with you to -", but a firm look from Kaèl silenced the man. He bowed deeply. "At your command, Mylord."  
 _You chicken,_ Kaèl thought. _Nothing ventured, nothing gained!_

The Silver Forest was an hour's carriage ride from Sunstrider's estate. It was the largest and most beautiful forest in Fukuòka and enclosed two picturesque lakes. As a child, his father had often taken him there on carriage trips, and they had walked together along the sandy paths.  
Kaèl had hated these trips, as they stopped at every corner so that his father could be portrayed by the servants who carried large canvases behind them for this purpose. Sometimes he had also forced Kaèl to stand still and stare at the sun with a sculptured smile. Two of these pictures were still hanging over the large staircase to the dining hall, and his father showed them to the uninterested guests at every celebration.  
A single road led through the forest, which he had the coachman drive down to the place where he suspected the Antimages' home. There he let him stop, opened his parasol and made a solitary tour.   
On such occasions, he usually took his servant, Mr. Taryòn, with him. He dictated his thoughts and associations, which Mr. Taryòn diligently noted down. Sometimes he acknowledged it with the words 'ingenious, Lord Sunstrider, really ingenious', which prompted Kaèl to make further associations. Entire books had been created in this way.   
But without this support, his thoughts wandered away quickly. Instead of contemplating transformation magic, he distracted himself with the beautiful nature, the woodpecker's pounding and the silvery shimmering light of the forest.  
 _Inefficient,_ he thought.   
But when the Antimage lived here, he did not want to risk the life of Mister Taryón. For that, Kaèl had already become too accustomed to him. A frequent change of personnel irritated him, and he had difficulties with new names.   
The forest had a few gentle hills and rugged sandstones that towered imposingly above the treetops. Kaèls father used to enjoy climbing up and down the steeper hills; he felt alive when his heart was pounding in his chest. Kaèl preferred the less strenuous paths, preferably along a lively babbling brook that flowed lightly, like his thoughts.   
This time he circled a hill covered with beech and spruce trees and admired the bizarre sandstone formations that the wind had formed. During the night, it had rained, and the earth steamed pleasantly fresh.   
_How beautiful it is here!,_ he thought. _It would be best if I took a stroll here every day._ It felt so good to clear his head.  
Curiously, he looked around him. If his calculations were correct, the Antimages' retreat should not be too far away, but he found no signs of habitation. After a little over an hour, he gave up and directed his steps back to the carriage.   
He let his coachman help him to the back seat and leaned into the cushions. A little disappointed, he watched the trees pass him by.   
_But what did I expect?_  
He almost dozed off when the brakes screeched. A jolt went through the carriage, which almost threw Kaèl against the back of the carriage block.  
"What is it now?" he asked the coachman angrily.  
But the coachman was stiff with fright. He stared at him, his eyes wide open.  
A man landed beside him on the carriage block. He wore two sickle-shaped blades on his back, weapons as Kaèl had never seen them before.  
The coachman wrapped his arms around his knees and wept softly. The guy with the weapons bent over the coachman, grabbed his arm and pulled him out of his seat. "Go away," he growled.   
The coachman didn't let him say it twice. He ran into the undergrowth without even looking back at Kael.  
Should he dare to enter the castle again, his dismissal is determined, Kaèl grimly thought.   
On the other hand, he was happy to be alone with the Antimage. Kaèl looked at him thoroughly to get a feeling of what kind of opponent he was facing. The man's movements were calm and fluent as if the whole thing was routine for him. His two weapons seemed threatening if he was able to use them properly. Kaèl suspected that he could do that, otherwise, the list of his victims would not be so long.  
Slowly the Antimage turned his head, and their eyes met. Surprised, Kaèl sucked in the air. The guy looked so young and half-baked, so much younger and more vulnerable than he was represented in his phantom picture. Kaèl almost felt sorry for him, as he didn't know who he was dealing with. _He has no idea how talented I am!_  
For a moment, he thought about sparing the boy, but he rejected the thought and opened the door. Determined, he stepped out of the carriage. "Antimage!"  
"Lord Sunstrider," the Antimage almost spat out his name. "At last, I catch thee."   
"What a surprise," lied Kael. "You've been looking for me? Why, of all peole, are you attacking me? My archmage exam is not for another four months. Has my reputation preceded me?"  
"The Archmage exam? What do I care about this witchcraft stuff? Thou art a lord, and thousands of people suffer at thy hands.  
Kael almost laughed at the broad Dinstermor dialect of that wannabe-witch hunter. It seemed so clumsy the way he stretched the syllables. And then these ridiculous claims. As if Kael had done something wrong.   
"Nonsense. Nobody suffers from me. On the contrary, I bring enlightenment to the world through my studies and books."  
"Enlightenment." With one big leap, the man jumped from the coach block at Kael's feet. He wielded one of his weapons and Kael leapt backwards. Horrified, he stared at the blade that had decapitated him by a hair's breadth.  
He blinked twice, took a deep breath. He was still intact.   
To be on the safe side, he took three steps back. It felt better to get out of the reach of these ... _instruments of murder_.  
"Art thou the Lord of Fukuòka, or not?" the guy asked.  
The question was too silly. "A witty deduction... for a mere soldier." Kael pointed to the green emblem with the fluorescent firefly that adorned the gold-plated carriage. "Who else but the Lord of Fukuòka would ride in this carriage?"  
The Antimage narrowed his eyes. He was tall for a human, but still half a head smaller than Kaèl. His impressive muscles, however more than compensated for this disadvantage. Kaèl had thought the drawings of the phantom picture were exaggerated, but the guy really had tattoos all over his skull and face, like war paint. Even under his clothes, it sparkled purple.  
"What are thou staring at, Archmage?" The grip on the blade grew stronger.  
 _Again, this 'thou'._ This guy had a language like the last Hillbilly. _Was he stuck in the previous century?_  
 _"_ What are _you_ staring at? Kael corrected him automatically. "Besides, I'm an _Archmage-to-be_. My exam is in four months, as I told you."  
"What exam are you babbling about all this time?" the Antimage asked. "You think I care?  
Kael clenched his fist. Now the impudent fellow was on a first-name basis with him, something no commoner had ever dared to do before.   
For a short time they fixed themselves, the hatred glowed in the eyes of the Antimage. The moment he jumped, Kaèl threw a deafening blast at him, which kept him at a distance.  
Kaèl focused his magical energy, felt it flow through his body to his fingertips and conjured a rapid succession of meteors falling from the sky onto the Antimage.   
But the Antimage nimbly jumped aside. "Cute. That's always the first thing that comes to mind of you witches."  
 _How impertinent! To compare me to the others!_  
Grumbling, Kael changed tactics and created electric flashes, which he threw at the damned guy. Again the Antimage dodged, unharmed. It was frustrating, Kael couldn't get any further.  
 _I have to provoke him, then he'll get careless!_  
"Can you do something else besides dodging?" Kaèl cried.  
"I can kill you."   
The Antimage jumped on him, and Kaèl was wrapped in the purple swirl of blades. The Antimage moved at breathtaking speed, and several times the blades slipped frighteningly close to Kael's face. He struggled to make the necessary counter-attacks. He hardly had time to launch a spell, and it seemed pointless: All the spells he tried bounced off the Anti-mage. Worse, they only seemed to fuel his zeal. "Are you even trying?" he mocked.  
Kael intensified his efforts. For a few minutes, they fought silently, bitterly. Again and again, Kaèl pushed the Antimage away with a deafening blast and then cast an attack spell. Still, the Antimage pushed closer until Kaèl threw the next blast. It took Kaèl's breath away, leaving him no time to think. He could no longer tactically maneuver, he randomly fired all destruction spells that came to his mind to distract the guy and keep those terrible weapons away from him. Gradually his arms became dull, and he became exhausted. Kaèl hadn't cast so many spells in that short time for years.  
He peered at the Antimage. The guy gasped and wiped a sweaty streak from his forehead.   
Kaèl let his exhausted arms sink. At that moment the Antimage appeared before him from nowhere, the blade raised. Kael threw himself to the side. Too late. He cried out. His shoulder burned like fire. He pressed his hand on it, but the blood came out between his fingers. He felt sick.  
 _Why did I provoke this? This guy is going to kill me!_  
He struggled to get up. Now the dynamics of the fight changed. Kaèl had become cautious. He no longer attacked but avoided, he kept retreating, closely followed by his attacker, who had a confident grin on his face. "Have you run out of energy?" he mocked.  
Kaèl became angry. He would have liked to prove the opposite to the Antimage, but he felt drained, it was as if the guy had pulled every magic power out of his body. It took him a lot of effort to even raise his hands to cast a spell, and his injured arm burned unbearably. He gritted his teeth.  
Now the Antimage swung his violet-glowing blade to give him the final blow. Kaèl saw the movement in slow motion. He knew he would not be able to parry the attack. With a desperate scream he rolled aside, into the bushes, and the Antimage hit into the void. But now Kaèl lay helpless on his back, like a beetle. He closed his eyes, he didn't want to see the next blow coming. _I don't want to die like this, I don't want to..._  
"Where have you gone?" the Antimage cried.   
Confused, Kaél looked up. Had he rolled into a hole in the ground?   
_No._  
He raised one hand in front of his eyes and saw... _nothing_.  
 _The ghost walk spell?_ Driven by terror, he must have managed to cast it! Only a handful of mages in Finistère had mastered this spell, Muriel, Fèalyra Ryunòr and a few illustrious others, to whom entire chapters in the Chronicles of Magic had been dedicated. Kaèl, like all students of his academy, had gritted his teeth on the magic, without success. Not one had managed to cast it.  
 _Fear is the best catalyst._  
The Antimage rumbled in frustration. He struck with his blades through the air, everywhere where he suspected Kaèl and beheaded a blue flower right at Kaèl's feet.  
He had to get out of here! With little elegance, he crawled more profoundly into the hazel bushes, painstakingly trying not to touch any of the branches and thus betraying himself with his movement. From there, he watched the Antimage with held breath. The Antimage had stopped beating around the bushes and searched the surroundings, far too extensively for Kael's taste.  
"I know you're still here. I can feel your disgusting magic." With these words, he came damn close to Kael's bushes, so that Kael could hear his rapid breathing. He shivered. Yes, Kaèl Sunstrider squeezed himself into the muddy ground and shook in front of a young man who could not master a single spell.  
Then the moment had passed, and the Antimage continued. Kaèl would have loved to breathe out loud.   
He watched the man's features. He was so concentrated on his search that the hateful expression had disappeared from his face. Now he looked like a boy again, he probably counted no more than twenty years. There was deep despair in his eyes, and Kaèl wondered what the man had seen in his life to be so hardened.  
At some point, the man gave up and sat down on a tree stump, embraced his knees, his weapons within reach. He remained there for a few breaths with his eyes closed.   
Kaèl stared at the defined upper arms. Such a thing was rarely seen among noble mages.   
The Antimage opened his eyes again, caught his blades and jumped away.  
Kaèl blinked confusedly. This was not an average jump, it was more like materializing, but without the usual delay.  
 _Does the guy know magic after all?_  
For a few minutes, Kaèl remained in his uncomfortable position. However, when nothing happened, he got back on his feet and ventured out of the bushes.  
His injured arm felt numb. For a test, he moved his fingers and was relieved that everything was the same. He would have liked to take a look at the wound, but he did not dare to release the invisibility.   
He breathed again. _After all, I'm still alive!_  
Kaèl smiled at the thought. _I am the first to survive,_ he triumphed. _As indeed I am first in everything!_

His robe stuck uncomfortably to his back, and it felt as if he had scraped more than one spot. Still, he suppressed the urge to return to the carriage. At first, he wanted to know precisely where the Antimage was hiding.   
Fortunately, his magical senses had been sharpened by years of meditation. He had attacked the Antimage with a series of strong magic spells, and remnants of this energy still floated through the air. The task now was to follow the fleeting traces to the loophole of the Antimage.   
Kaèl fought his way through the brushwood, past a small hill, until he came to a beaten path. He followed it until he reached a small stream. On the other side, the energy flickered particularly intensely. Kaèl loosened his shoes, which was more difficult than expected because of the invisibility and the aching arm, grabbed his robe and waded through the surprisingly cold water.  
With his shoes in his hand, he reached a clearing, and there it stood, a crooked hut made of rough wood. In front of it was a garden with many beds in which various plants and herbs were grown, more species than Kaèl could have named.  
 _And something like that is hiding in_ my _forest,_ he thought in surprise as he walked around the hut.  
The hut had two windows. Kaèl crept closer and took a look through them, but he couldn't see anything because there was a curtain in front of it. _Disappointing_.  
He wondered whether he should stay a while longer when the door swung open.  
"Is anyone there?" cried the Antimage, and stepped outside, gun in hand.  
Kael's heart sank into his pants. On tiptoe, he retreated, taking one cautious step after another. When he reached the opposite side of the creek, he began to run.  
At the road, Kaèl dared to dissolve the ghost walk. Critically, he looked down on himself. His robe was soaked in mud, his right sleeve was cut and underneath it was a deep wound. Kaèl's stomach became queasy.  
The remains of the sleeve were brownish, encrusted by blood, but fortunately, the bleeding had stopped.  
He walked to the carriage. The two horses were still tied to the carriage and were whinnying in fear, their ears laid back.   
_Poor them,_ Kaél thought.   
He stretched out his unhurt arm to calm them down. After a while, the white horse sniffed suspiciously at his palm.  
"Yes, that's it, my boy!" Despite the pain, he forced himself to pat the horse on the neck.   
When it had calmed down, he swung onto the carriage-truck. He sighed deeply as he took hold of the reins. When had he last steered a carriage?   
_Never._  
"Go," he said, unsettled, and jerked the reins. Nothing happened. He pulled and jerked again, scolding and pleading, but the two horses did not move.  
Eventually, it got too much for him, and he jumped out. _Then I'll ride home,_ he thought and tried to undo the white horse's harness from the carriage.  
"Mylord," someone behind him said. "You are alive!"  
It was the coachman, who looked at him with red-stained eyes. He threw himself at Kaèls feet. "Pardon, Mylord. I had lost my head. Please, please forgive me."  
"Take me home," Kaél growled, secretly relieved.  
The coachman stood up and nodded hastily. In no time at all he put Kael on the soft leather seat, comforted the horses and corrected the harness. "It won't happen again," he muttered incessantly.  
"Just be quiet", Kael said.   
But then he thought of something. "Coachman", he waved him over and lowered his voice: "If you say one word about what happened today, you're fired!"


	7. What will people say?

When he woke up the next morning, Kaèl felt recovered for the first time in months, oh no, in years. And that, even though he had spent the night wondering about every detail of the battle. The exhaustion had let him sleep through, something he hadn't been able to do regularly.  
He had Mister Taryòn help him into a gold-ornamented robe with bell-shaped sleeves, which worked surprisingly well despite the thick bandage around his arm. Although the wound was still throbbing, the ointment of Madame Hazel, the family healer, had done a good job. Kaèl was able to perform almost all movements without restrictions. Most likely, his parents would not even notice.  
Humming softly, he went downstairs to the dining room. His mother raised her head from her papers. She pinched her brows together. "What happened to you?"  
The wide grin on his face persisted. "Why?"  
"Didn't you look in the mirror? You're covered in bruises."  
 _Oh._  
"I had a clash with that Antimage and-"  
She drove together. "You ... what?"  
Kaél made a reassuring gesture. "Don't mention it, Mother. As you can see, I'm still alive." He frowned. "But so is he."  
"But my precious." She jumped up and inspected the damage up close. "That's terrible!"   
She and Elìrios exchanged a long look.  
"Where did he attack you?" his father asked sharply.   
"On the way to the library", Kaèl lied. He didn't want to draw his parents' attention to any details of this affair.   
"Akàri, it is time that Treverer and the grey coats deal with this matter. What if this murderer is now after Kaèl'thas?"  
 _If they knew how hard it was to get his attention,_ Kael'el thought.  
"That's right." Akàri returned to the table and scribbled something in her notes. "And besides, I will have the guards doubled." She put the pen aside and pointed at Kaèl. "And from now on, you will take an escort with you when you go to the library, do you understand me?"  
He nodded, not very enthusiastically. "Of course, Mother."  
Akàri and Elìrios discussed for a few minutes about the security of the country and what they intended to do with the Antimage when they finally got their hands on him. Kaèl, however, blocked out their voices.   
Little by little they calmed down again, and the rest of the breakfast went on in silence, only the newspaper rustling quietly from time to time.   
At some point, as Kaèl buttered his second slice of bread, Akàri said: "The day after tomorrow, the Macalisters are inviting you to a dance tea. Ludòiku wrote to me today that he's coming over with Nyòko."  
"How lovely", Kaèl replied.   
_Oh no._ He'd completely repressed that!  
His father nodded hastily. "This would be a perfect opportunity to deepen your contact."  
 _Not again. I've just had my peace._  
"Yes, quite _formidable_ ", Kael said reservedly.  
Akàri gave him a long look. "Kael'thas. Why do you say that so ironically?"  
"I think she's a bit young for me," Kael said. "Immature."  
"How old is she now? Twenty-three? Twenty-two?"  
"Eight years younger than me, Mother."   
"Your father is fifteen years older. These things are less important than you first think."  
 _Less important... a beautiful euphemism!_ It was a miracle that Kael existed, the way they treated each other so lovelessly.   
His father walked around the table and brushed Kaèls hair away from his face.  
"Father!" Kael wiped his hand aside and shook his hair back into his face.  
Elìrios looked at him intensely. "These bruises are a problem. What will people think at the Tea Dance?"  
Kaèl sighed deeply. It was so typical for Elìrios. "What will people think?" was his biggest worry.  
"We could have them concealed with make-up," Elrios thought aloud. "My make-up artist is a true master."  
 _This is going to be 'interesting',_ Kael thought.


	8. Powder and pearl wine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know that this story is far off the Dota lore with a lot of new characters ... I am sorry!

During the tea dance, Kaèl was standing next to the dance floor with heavy make-up on his face. He wished himself far away. The powder tickled his nose unpleasantly, and more than once, he had to suppress a sneeze. Incessably, he was asked to dance and slowly he ran out of creative rejections.  
Lina joined him. She wore a beautiful red-orange dress decorated with rubies that sparkled as bright as her hair. Matching to it she wore golden high heels, it almost seemed as if she was floating a few centimetres above the ground. Her dress was just long enough not to offend etiquette, but she moved so that now and then her naked knee flashed through. Lina knew how to get everyone's attention.  
She looked at him closely, took a step closer and sniffed demonstratively in the air.  
It was too much for him. "What is it?" he barked.  
She grinned. "What have you done to your face?"  
"Pardon?"  
"This make-up. And you stink of powder!"  
"Don't you like it?" he asked ironically. "I'm _heartbroken!_ And I thought a little powder would compliment my paleness." He threw his hair back with vigour.  
Lina laughed softly. "I'm glad you took my advice and are still alive."  
_If you knew,_ he thought, but he refrained from saying so. "I'm glad you're here," he said instead. "These dances are so terribly dull. They're all cretins here, stealing my precious time."  
"I don't think so," she objected, pointing furtively at one of the servants. The latter balanced his tray through the dancers and winked at her, which she answered with a coquettish look. He had a similar skin colour and stature as the Antimage. His movements were also alike. _Although... No, the Antimage moves even more elegantly,_ Kaèl thought, _like a lynx._  
"Isn't he cute?" Lina asked, and Kaèl could only nod approvingly  
She cackled. "I can't wait to see how he reacts to my fire spells in bed."   
Kael's mood fell. "Don't be too mean to him," he murmured. He felt sorry for the servant already.   
In a bad mood, he turned away from Lina. His gaze met Rubìnia, who was glaring at him bitterly, but he quickly looked in another direction. At least his mother seemed to be in a good mood. She stood at the table with Ludòiku, Ludòiku laughed out loud, and even Akàri smiled softly. In between stood, slightly embarrassed, Nyòko.  
Kaèl had never heard his mother make a good joke before and was always fascinated by how enthusiastic Ludòiku seemed to hang on her lips.  
Akàris and his eyes met, and she waved him over. "My precious, join us!"  
"Be a good boy, my precious" Lina said with a wide grin. "Mummy's calling."  
Sighing, he took his glass. It would be a long evening. He trotted to the table and greeted the others.   
"Look who's here", his mother started and nodded in Nyòko's direction. "Whenever I see Nyòko, I think, 'By Roshan, how time flies! I remember how she used to play with her rocking-horse as a little girl."  
Nyòko's cheeks turned red. She probably wished she were far away right now, just like Kael.  
"Yes," Ludòiku said. "Our little girl was a wild child, just like Serèika. I remember Nyòko once broke her favourite rocking-horse. By Roshan, how sad she was! Then Kael put it back together for her, even though he was only in fourth grade himself." He nudged Nyòko in the side. "Remember how Kael fixed your horse?"  
Nyòko twisted uncomfortably  
"Yes, I remember," Kael said. "Unfortunately." He frowned. "I was so fed up with all that whining that I had no choice."  
His mother shot a scowling glance at him.  
"Ahaha", Ludòiku laughed, "That's one way to put it."  
_Could it get any more embarrassing and unpleasant?_ He decided to pull the emergency brake.   
"Nyòko." He looked at her intently. "Shall we go out onto the balcony together?"  
Ludòiku's eyes gleamed in joy when he asked. Nyòko stared in panic from her father at Kael, then nodded slowly.

Outside they leaned against the balustrade and breathed deeply.   
"What a dilemma!" Kaèl said. "Since I was over thirty, my mother has gone crazy and wants to set me up all the time. It's terrible that she involves you now."  
"So your advances from the last ball were involuntary? You're not in love with me?"   
"Of course, I'm not in love with you!"  
She exhaled deeply. "Whew, lucky me. I wouldn't have known how to explain to father that I was rejecting his golden boy."   
_Reject me?_ He wasn't interested in her, but he was annoyed by the knowledge that it was mutual.  
Nyòko looked at him. "Don't get me wrong, but we've known each other so long, you're more like an older brother to me." She pulled her brows together. "Even if a grumpy, weird one."  
This, on the other hand, made sense to him. "Now I know what you mean," he said. "Yes, there's no attraction whatsoever."  
"Exactly." She laughed. "You're lucky they gave you till you were thirty! Ludòiku is already in a furious mood."   
"Creepy."  
"The welfare of our country depends on me finding a suitable partner." She sighed theatrically.  
"More wine?" Kaèl asked.  
They toasted. "To the free choice of partners."  
The wine was unpleasantly sweet and dense, probably Nyòko's father had chosen it for the evening, he appreciated such stuff and regularly made everyone else suffer from it.   
Nyòko didn't seem to mind the sticky brew, she emptied almost half the glass in one go. "That felt good," she said, wiping her lips.  
"At least we're away from the ghastly music and sweaty dancers here," he said.  
She frowned. "I like the dancing and the music. But yes, now that Ludòiku watches all the time who I choose as my dancing partner, it has lost its charm." Her face brightened. "I have an idea," she exclaimed. "How about using their folly for us? We pretend to be interested in each other. Then we retreat into a dark corner and don't say a word, just relax. Is that a plan?"  
"Why don't we talk?" he asked confusedly.  
She rolled her eyes. "Kaèl, don't feel offended, but I can imagine a more exciting evening than listening to your lecture on magic."  
Kaèl was baffled. Nyòko was the first to find _his_ stories annoying. He struggled with the urge to give a sharp retort.   
_The girl is young and doesn't know what's right in life,_ he tried to calm down.   
"Fine," he said with gritted teeth.  
Thereupon they fell into a deep silence, which Kaèl used to recall the details of the fight with the Antimage. There were some things he still did not understand, although he had been brooding over them night after night.   
Kaèl had never put much energy into learning the magic of destruction - in his eyes, it was a crude discipline that was only about brute force. Yet he was superior to most, with the exception perhaps of Lina, Serèika Ryunòr, or some of the chosen eleven. At the academy, he had appeared a few times at the Dueling Club and had remained undefeated so far.   
And yet, whenever he had fired a spell against the Antimage, it was as if it bounced off him. Sometimes the guy hadn't even dodged and still hadn't suffered any damage.  
The only explanation Kaèl had for this phenomenon was shield magic.  
_But wouldn't it be absurd for someone who hates magic to use some himself?_  
Besides, shield magic was scarce. To create an effective shield, more energy had to be put into it than into the spells it was supposed to block. Since it wasn't clear beforehand how powerful these would be, a maximum of energy was required, which was more than most mages had at their disposal. So it was usually more efficient to dodge or parry spells and focus on the attack spells to take out the enemy quickly.  
_No,_ he thought, _a human like the Antimage would never be able to cast a magic shield!_  
"Nyòko," he thought aloud. "How many people do you know who have mastered shield magic? Do you have any in the army?"  
She looked up. It took her a while to focus on Kael, she must have been deep in her own thoughts. "Kael," she said. "Not today! What was our agreement? No lectures on magic!"  
"Pfff", he said annoyed and concentrated again on his thoughts.  
There was something strange about the Antimage. As a hypothesis, Kael called it 'magic immunity'. With classical destruction magic, he wouldn't get far, for sure.  
_But how do I fight with someone immune to my attacks?_  
Physical attacks remained. However, the idea that Kaèl should fight like a little boy was ridiculous, apart from the fact that he had always sent his servants to fight when he was a child.  
_What can I do to stop him?_  
An idea came to him, and he had to smile.   
_Of course,_ he thought. _I am and will remain a transformation mage, not a destroyer!_


	9. The game begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now Invoker is finally learning to cast his orbs!
> 
> (Although it works a bit differently from the orbs we know from DOTA)

Kaèl spent the next few days in his two private libraries, going through all the magic books that could be of use against the Antimage. He ignored the works on destructive spells because destructive magic had brought neither him nor the fourteen unfortunate victims of the Antimage very far. Kaèl did not want to imitate what others had already failed to do.

Instead, he tried lesser-known forms of magic: he delved into books about illusion spells, knot magic and elemental spells. Most of the works were old and cumbersomely written. Still, he was used to worse and rummaged through the dusty texts with the cute old-fashioned vocabulary.

His research was worth it. In a book on Old Elvish war magic, he found a method which - if the textbook description was correct - enabled him to cast the most potent spells in rapid succession. Each magician had only a limited amount of energy at his disposal, which regenerated quite slowly. In everyday life, this was no problem, but in a battle in which several powerful spells were cast in quick succession, it was easy to reach the limits. The described method worked as a buffer. It was an almost forgotten form of knot magic, the corresponding spells were stored in magic orbs before the fight. By destroying the orb the spell could be used in the battle directly and without further energy expenditure.

Concentratedly, he followed the instructions of the book with his hand. Each spell required a specific finger position, which channelled the magical energy flowing through the body and transformed it into the desired spell. To conjure the orbs, he first had to draw a lying eight with his index finger in the air and then to dip his fingertips downwards and let the movement run out in a waveform up to his elbow.

It always took some time until Kaèl had internalized a new sequence and his movements were appropriately flowing. But that was not the most challenging part. Only when he had automated the movement, he could concentrate on letting the necessary amount of energy flow from every fibre of his body and to transform it into what his mental eye saw before him.

After a hundred attempts, he felt the well-known tingling in his chest rise up. From there it continued through his arm to his fingertips, where it discharged with a spark. A yellowish glowing ball, about the size of two fists, formed between his trembling fingers and floated slowly up to just above his head.

He breathed out. At last, he had succeeded! Now he only had to learn to store one of his attack spells in this orb, but that he planned for the next day.

He also performed the ghost walk spell countless times until he was completely satisfied with its execution. With spells it was like swimming -- he usually mastered a spell once he had managed to cast it. But in this case, he didn't want to take any risks -- invisibility was his safety net for the next fight.

So that no one would get in the way of his plans with the Antimage, he ventured into Myriam's office on her day off. As expected, he found it deserted. He searched the shelves for the metal box with the information about the Antimage. It was at the bottom of the shelf to the left of the door, next to other boxes and books on which Myriam had neatly written the topics. He read 'The Carver of Nishaì' and 'Human Villages of Finistère'.

The box was sealed with several spells, but fortunately, he knew Myriam's way of thinking well enough to be able to cancel her safety spells after only a few minutes. He sifted through the records and changed a date here, destroyed a note or article there to prevent Myriam from finding the whereabouts of the Antimage.

Of course, it was a balancing act: Too many changes and Myriam would notice that the documents had been altered and sound the alarm, too few, and she would still think, after some thought, that the Antimage resided in the Silver Forest. And then all of Kael's preparations and considerations would be ruined. No, Kael could not allow that to happen.

He carefully put the slips of paper back into the metal box and put them on the shelf, precisely at the angle where they had been before. Fortunately, he had a keen eye for such things.

 _Let's hope it's enough,_ he thought as he cast the sealing spell over it.

Kael made himself invisible and snuck out of Myriam's office. In the hallway, he looked around, but nobody seemed to have noticed anything about his operation. Relieved, he retreated to his chamber.

To realize his plan, Kaèl, unfortunately, had to become physically active. Without a certain degree of dexterity, he would fall prey to the blades before he had cast a single one of his spells.

For these 'physical escapades', he had a set of light, stretchy robes made for him, which were not lacking in elegance.

Dressed in such a robe, he went to the training room where his mother used to spend hours after a stressful day tearing up linen dolls with her destruction spells. She also liked to scare frightened servants back and forth, holding targets or acting as living targets. Quite a few had quit after such an 'experience'.

The room was covered with rice straw mats, had a few sandbags, said linen dolls and a mirror wall. There was a subliminal smell of the fear sweat of the servants and of something scorched, apparently, his mother had been working on fire spells lately.

Undecidedly he wandered back and forth on the mat. When was the last time he had done any sports, apart from long walks?

 _Maybe ten years ago,_ he wondered, when Elìrios was going through his 'only in a healthy body rests a healthy mind'-phase, and Kaèl had been carried away by his enthusiasm for gymnastics. That was before his father had discovered the 'men's gold'. "Men's gold creates a pleasant feelings, no matter what day it is," Kaèl muttered contemptuously, but then he forced himself to push away those annoying thoughts.

The first thing he had in mind was push-ups, which seemed to be a simple exercise to him. At least that's how it had always seemed to him. He had often watched his summer lover Timanty - _Timothy,_ he corrected himself - do his daily sports workload where he counted a hundred push-ups. Kaèl had laughed at him at that time. Still, as a result, Timothy had pleasantly defined arm muscles, which Kaèl had often bitten into during sex. Yes, those were the days!

Kaèl skimmed the instructions for push-ups in his book 'The Steel-Hard Magician'.

 _Sounds easy,_ he thought and put it aside.

Determined, he reached into his pocket and tied a silk headband around his head to tame his hair. He felt silly in these clothes, even though the pale blue colour of the silk perfectly matched his platinum blond hair.

Then he kneeled down on all fours, pushed back one foot after the other and stretched his legs until he held a board over his outstretched arms, as described in the 'Steel-hard magician'. This posture was exhausting, but maybe the burning sensation would subside when he bent his arms and finally started to move.

He bent his elbows. Immediately an unexpected pain went through his upper arms, and from there, it continued into his chest. He would have preferred to let himself drop, but according to the book that was exactly what he had to avoid. So he gritted his teeth and exhaled in bursts. He managed to let himself sink slowly to the ground. When he reached the bottom, he tried to push himself up again with his dull arms but failed. He took a deep breath a few times, patted himself up and repeated the exercise.

After ten repetitions, he had had enough. Panting, he wiped the sweat from his forehead. _How had Timanty endured it? The boy must have a deep inclination to masochism._

 _What a pity,_ he thought. _If I'd known that before, how much more fun could we have had together._ He laughed softly.

But still, Kael wouldn't become a 'Steel-Hard Magician' so quickly. But that was no obstacle. He would just change his priorities, after all, he was flexible. Then the good old transformation magic had to compensate for his lack of mobility.


	10. Revanche

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not sure, whether "only" -- "onliest" is such a big deal in English (I tried to google it but still am not certain). In German, a lot of people say "onliest" and it is a horrible and very wrong thing ^^

After two weeks of tireless magical training, Kaèl was ready to face the Antimage again. He waited for an opportunity when his mother was called upon outside the castle and got into the carriage. Then he set off for the Silver Forest - without an escort, of course.

His coachman could hardly hold the reins, so much his hands trembled. Kaèl, too, felt more and more uneasy the closer they came to their destination, but it was too late. He had put on his stretchy combat gear and would not give up now a few hundred meters before the finish!

Shortly before the place of the last attack, he stopped his faint-hearted coachman. Kaèl was reluctant to tell him the whereabouts of the Antimage, so he ordered him to hide the carriage behind a bush and to wait for him there.

The matter with the Antimage was entirely his own affair. He did not want the coachman to talk to his mother and then have her send out her entire guards to eradicate the Antimage.

 _Somehow I'm crazy,_ he thought as he climbed into the undergrowth. The Antimage should not be underestimated, Kaèl had survived her last fight only by luck. On the other hand, this time, he had the element of surprise for himself. And he was prepared.

Long before the carriage ride, he had conjured up his spheres. Most mages had already failed at one sphere, Kaèl, however, had managed to charge three of the yellow glowing orbs with his deadliest spells and could hardly wait to unleash them on the Antimage.

Satisfied, he rubbed his hands. _What a glorious invocation!_

The orbs buzzed around his body, giving him a daring appearance. Fittingly, he had chosen a midnight-blue battle robe, which contrasted impressively with the yellow of the orbs.

He saw the Antimage from afar. He sat in 'his' garden in front of a muddy flower bed and dug around in the earth with a knife.

He must have sensed Kael's presence, because he jumped up in a flash and turned in Kael's direction, his knife out. "You again," he said. "What are you doing here?" He let the knife slip through his fingers.

This time he was wearing the same tightly cut tunic that Kael already knew from his phantom picture. Kaèl stared at the muscles that appeared underneath.

The Antimage stared back, first at Kaèl's eyes, then his gaze was distracted by the swirling orbs. He raised his brows.

"We hadn't finished," Kaèl said with an emphasized composure.

"You crazy bird!" The Antimage laughed. "You only survived because you crawled away through the mud. And now you're standing here again, with those silly glimmer balls. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Defiantly, Kael pushed his chin forward. "I want to finish what we started. What's wrong with that?" He raised his arms ready to attack and slowly stepped towards the Antimage.

The Antimage raised his hand as a warning. "No further!" but Kael could not be stopped. Not this time.

"Arrgh", the Antimage cried. He grabbed his forehead and stared down at Kael's feet. Kael's gaze wandered down, too. He had turned over one of the plants in the flowerbed. A rather large one, with beautiful pods.

"Oops," Kael said.

"My onliest beanstalk!" The voice of the Antimage sounded desperate.

Kael shuddered in disgust. "My only", he corrected. "That means 'the only beanstalk'."

"Shut up!" The Antimage narrowed his eyes.

"But this is important," Kaél insisted. "There is no superlative of ‘only’. At least not in a logical way."

"Are you trying to enrage me?" the guy shouted.

_Roshan, how sensitive he is!_

"Oh please", Kaèl retorted, "the _only_ thing that could enrage one here is your scary semantics!"

The Antimage clenched his fist. "Then be glad," he growled, "that you don't have to get upset about it much longer. You are already dead!" He threw the knife aside and fetched his weapons, which were leaning against a tree a few steps away. With a big leap, he jumped in Kael's direction. He made two swings with the hideously flashing blades that made the blood in Kael's veins freeze. "Haha," he laughed. "That was just my warm-up exercise. My _onliest_ warm-up exercise." He came closer, a vicious grin on his face. "Now get out of my garden!"

Kael obeyed, the menacingly raised weapons left him no choice. He let himself be pushed back and only began to fight back from a safe distance from the garden. As in the first fight, Kaèl distracted the Antimage with his deafening blasts, pushing him back whenever he wanted to jump. When the Antimage snorted in frustration, Kaèl whirled him through the air with a tornado. The moment the Antimage touched the ground, he burst his orbs with a loud bang and released the spells: a meteor, a pink lightning bolt, and finally a sunstrike that came down from the sky.

The Antimage barely escaped the meteor - by rolling to the side, but he was exposed to the lightning bolt. As expected, the spells had little effect on him. Any normal person would have been immobilized, if not killed, by the lightning bolt, but the Antimage came back on its feet as if nothing had happened. The sunstrike, however, burned the right sleeve of his tunic. So the guy did not seem to be completely immune!

The Antimage gasped and held his singed arm. "You're damn fast!"

Kaél shrugged. "I am Kaèl."

"Carl? Your name?

"Ka - èl!"

"Ka - èl", repeated the Antimage hesitantly. 

"There you go." He was about to ask for the name of the Antimage when the guy started to strike again. Kael was busy parrying the various attacks. Nevertheless, the pace of the fight had changed, the Antimage had become more cautious, jumping into range less frequently, as if he had gained respect for Kaèl. This was precisely what Kaèl had planned, it gave him time to finally cast his transformation spells.

It was going really well, Kaèl was sending the Antimage from one unpleasant situation to the next. He created a wall of solid ice here to trap him and a sandstorm there that took the Antimage's sight and made his attacks fail.

The Antimage growled and fought his way free again, but as soon as he could strike, Kaèl already had the next trick at hand.

_Ha! If only these destructive brutes could see this!_

As the final piece, he created an army of illusions, all grinning Kaèls. They surrounded the Antimage and threw fire spells at him. Kaèl had practised this spell for days, and he was confident that he could keep the Antimage in check for quite some time.

But the Antimage was not impressed. The fireballs bounced off him like cotton balls. "Interesting," he said stoically, shredding the illusions one by one with his weapons.

Those horrible blades again! Now they even destroyed his beloved illusions!

Calmly, almost rhythmically, the Antimage worked his way through the army of illusions and came ever closer to Kaèl. Kaèl had not expected this. Everything in him tense up, he stared paralyzed at the swinging blades that cut through the last illusions only half a meter away from him.

He now had only one spell in his repertoire, and it was extremely demanding.

He had to stay calm, his damn survival depended on it! But his fingers were shaking so uncontrollably that he was afraid he would miss the spell.

 _You can do it,_ he said to himself. _You can do it!_

Kaèl closed his eyes, ignored his pounding heart and performed the rehearsed hand movement.

The Antimage muttered a curse, and Kaèl smiled. He opened his eyes and noticed with relief that the Antimage was holding two squirrels in his hands instead of weapons. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"You..."

"Have you lost your toys?" Kael suppressed a chuckle.

The Antimage dropped the animals as if he'd been burnt by them. But they didn't think about disappearing into the next treetop. They scurried around his feet and kept standing on two legs to look up at him. He laughed and tried to wave them away, but they didn't let themselves be distracted.

"What have you done to them? They're not acting normal!"

"Apparently, you are their parent now. Isn't that adorable?"

The Antimage gave Kael a bitter look and squatted down. "Fine", he said, and made them jump on his palms, "Then you belong to me now."

_What did he mean by that? He doesn't want..._

Disbelievingly, Kaèl watched as the Antimage carried the animals to the hut and locked them in. Instead of returning to Kael, he put his ear to the door and listened for a while. Kaèl also came a step closer and listened attentively. Inside, it rumbled and squealed loudly.

"The way it sounds, they're taking the whole hut apart right now," Kaèl said.

"Probably." The Antimage sighed. "But there's no room for animals on the battlefield. I don't want you to hurt them with one of your spells."

The Antimage's reaction was absurd. It was not at all like what Kael had imagined. He had thought for a long time which animal he should replace the horrible blades with, and in the end he had chosen squirrels because they were the silliest, most harmless thing he could imagine. He wanted to ridicule the Antimage, to make him furious. As a reaction, he had expected outbursts of rage, curses, but not that the guy would establish a bond with the object of the ridicule.

"You're actually developing parental feelings," he said, more for himself than for him. He felt how intensely the Antimage fixated him, from narrowed eyes. But now that no blades were threatening him any more, Kael's confidence was back. He looked back calmly.

He had done his calculations without the Antimage. With one leap, he jumped forward and carried Kaèl away until both of them whirled over the muddy ground. He landed on Kaèl and pressed his thighs firmly around his torso. "You'll wish back the blades. Like this, your death will be more painful."

He reached into Kael's collar with crossed arms, leaning low over him and Kael swam in his woody scent.

The smell confused him. Deeply. For a fraction of a second, he lay motionless.

A fraction too much.

The Antimage pulled his arms together and squeezed his breath away. It almost ripped his larynx apart, bringing tears to his eyes. In a panic, he tried to push the Antimage away, but every effort only increased the pressure. His arms were pressed tightly against his own body by the guy's shins, and he couldn't move them. Desperately he rolled back and forth, panting, but the Antimage only laughed at his efforts. "Yes, try to magic thyself out of this, great Archmage!"

The blood was pounding in Kael's temples. He wasn't strong enough to push the Antimage away. But he concentrated all his strength on his left arm and jerked it free.

Luckily, Kael had attended a lecture on left-handed magic at the academy. He threw a stunning spell in the face of the Antimage, rolled out from under him and moved to the side. There he made himself invisible and crawled on, into the next bush.

The guy cursed. Apparently the spell's effect had worn off, much too soon for Kael's taste, who had gotten tangled up in the thorns of a blackberry bush.

The Antimage was already on his feet, searching the area. There was no back and forth for Kaèl, any movement would have made the blackberry bushes shake. With his breath held, he watched as the Antimage turned his circles and after a while finally gave up.

"You are a chicken," he shouted in frustration as he stomped back to his hut. "Just a chicken."

_Chicken, my ass. I just know when it's time for the strategic withdrawal!_

With trembling hands, he detached himself from the thorns and sneaked back to the carriage. All in all, he was not dissatisfied with his performance. The fight had gone differently than he had hoped. Still, Kaèl had learned a lot about the Antimage, which could be an advantage in the following encounters. And there would be more fights, Kaèl Sunstrider did not give in so quickly!

Unfortunately, his thoughts were clouded by the adrenaline of the fight, and he missed the right turn. When he passed the same big boulder the second time, he gave up and sat down on the stone to rest his exhausted feet. The fight had drained him.

Suddenly something cracked in the undergrowth. Kaél flinched. He held his breath and peered into the bushes.

The Antimage roamed through the bushes, a basket in hand, humming a song. The scene seemed so harmless, so silly that Kaèl had to suppress a giggle.

Now he recognized the melody the guy was singing. Kaèl had played the cute little children's song on the violin in the past, but the Antimage sang it wrong. He missed the final harmony of the chorus every time.

"You're singing it wrong" Kaél cried and the head of the Antimage turned around. He immediately regretted his words.

The Antimage's gaze was caught on the boulder, right where Kaèl was sitting. "You are still here?" he asked sharply.

Quickly, Kael made sure that he was still invisible. Hopefully, he wouldn't come any closer, he thought in panic. He had no strength left to fight again. Therefore he ducked closer to the stone and watched the next steps of the Antimage.

The latter twisted his eyes. "I don't want to play your invisibility games. I won't attack you today, so you may answer.

But Kaél remained stubbornly silent. The Antimage gave him - the stone - one last, sinister look and started singing again. This time at the top of his voice and - unfortunately - just as wrong as before.

When he missed the refrain the second time, Kaèl gave up. "Fine, here I am!" He released the ghost walk. "Now stop singing or learn the right tune!"

The guy kept grinning and singing, never letting Kaél out of his sight.

"Mercy, I've shown myself, now you must stop", Kaèl begged and theatrically held his hands over his ears.

The singing turned into laughter. "All right", the guy snorted. "What are you still doing here?"

"I am lost," Kaèl simply said, which caused another burst of laughter.

"A fine lord you are. You don't even know your way around your own woods."

"Ha-ha," Kaèl said, annoyed. "Do you know how big my damn woods are?" He pointed to the Antimage. "And you? What on earth are you doing here?"

The Antimage held up the basket. "I'm looking for nuts. For the little beasts. They refuse to leave my hut, and they must be getting hungry."

Kael had to smile. "You came to terms with them surprisingly quickly."

What on earth was he talking about? Was he really talking to the... Antimage ... about squirrels?

He had to admit there was something about the guy that intrigued him. He was so full of contradictions, he was relentless in their fights, but then, in such strange moments, the compassion or the mischievousness came out. And now he got scratches in the underwood, just to satisfy his parental feelings towards some squirrels.

"I like the little ones." The voice of the Antimage sounded hesitant as if the content of their conversation irritated him as much as Kaèl. He cleared his throat. "But I wish you hadn't just turned my weapons into them."

"I did not. It is not possible to create living beings through magic. Your weapons merely swapped positions with two squirrels."

The guy's eyes widened. "So now I have to find my blades in the treetops?"

Kaèl nodded with a grin.

He sighed out loud. "By all the gods, what luck. You have no idea how much those weapons cost me."

No, Kaèl really didn't have any idea. He wasn't at all interested in money.

"One thing I don't understand," the Antimage thought aloud. "If they are not crafted by magic, but are real squirrels ... why are they so fixated on me?"

Kael's gaze wandered briefly over the athletic body of the Antimage. "Well, because you're so attractive", he said lightly.

He faltered. _Because you're so attractive? Shit!_

He took a squeezed breath and lusted from the corner of his eye at the Antimage. The Antimage gave him a strange look.

"It doesn't matter", Kael said abruptly. "I should have left long ago. My carriage is waiting!" He jumped up and started running.

"Wait", shouted the Antimage and Kaél looked back. "The carriage road is that way, _mylord_." He pointed with his thumb behind him.

With glowing cheeks, Kaèl squeezed past the Antimage and walked away.


End file.
